A/N: Hello! I seem to be popping these stories out faster than I thought possible for me. Anyways, this is dedicated to my beta-reader, bear72724 as she looked through this for me and helped me out and such. Umm... Yes, I do believe that is it. Oh! First slash fic for me, so please be kind in your review if you decide to leave one.
Summary: Greg is found in the break room on his day off and drunk. Why is he there? Why does he break Nick's mug? And what happens when the truth is revealed? SLASH
Rating: PG-13 for some guy/guy kissing near the end. If you don't like, then don't read.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, except for the plot, and even that belongs to my muses. Everything else is claimed to Mr. Jerry B and Mr. Anthony Z.
Nick felt the warm breath upon his ears, as well as the arms which had wrapped themselves around his midriff, before he heard the voice. The speaker murmured a low, enticing, "Hello beautiful..." startling him. The mug fell as his hands went limp, a smash echoing throughout the room. Ceramic against concrete. Surprise settled in, confusion starting to take over. He turned his head slightly, hoping for a glimpse. No one was there, and it was then that he realized, the arms had also disappeared. He shifted his gaze downwards, towards the shattered mug. And what should he find, but Greg kneeling beside the mess.
"What are you doing here? Isn't today your day off?" Confusion seemed to like his mind, deciding to stay a bit longer. However, his words, his question, went ignored. The younger man was simply staring at the sharpened pieces as if it were a dear friend who had been run over. It was not, though. It was an old mug Nick had hated when bought for him; hated when forced to use; hated when left alone out of sheer laziness.
"You killed the mug." Greg now sounded like a five year old, trying to comprehend death. Why somebody all of a sudden went to sleep to be with God instead of them. Why God was more special. It was odd to see the man act in such a way. Young was his heart, as it was childish, but only at times. At others, he could be as wise as any man. He understood death; he had to. Everybody had to. It was the reason why everybody in that building was employed.
"I didn't mean to." And he hadn't. It was the truth, but as innocent looking hazel eyes turned themselves onto his own dark brown orbs, he wondered. Maybe in fact he had meant to drop the mug. Maybe every action he took, no matter what, was all because he wanted to. Nick shook his head, clearing the thoughts, if only for a second. He forced himself to study Greg's face instead of just his eyes. Leaning forward, he sniffed the air, and like an epiphany, it came.
"You're drunk." Shock ebbed its way into the blondes' eyes, and thoughts of denial swirled around as well. Eventually, as red started to cover his cheeks, Greg turned away, no longer being able to keep eye contact.
"The mug was a dear friend to us all," started Greg, looking downwards again. He, however, stood there and stared. He was surprised at Greg's actions, and wished he could move. If only he could tear his eyes away from the back of the man's head.
"Greg?" Silently, he thanked whichever god had been listening, as Nick's head snapped towards the door. There stood Catherine, watching the scene lay out before her. Confusion was written on her face, also startled to see the lab tech. "What are you doing here?"
"He's drunk." That was all he could comprehend at the moment. Greg had shown up to work, on his day off, drunk. His thoughts were cut short though, as Greg swiftly stood up, coming within inches of Nick's face.
"You broke Mr. Mug." Nick took a small step back, wanting more space between the two men. Whatever it was that Greg smelled of, he wasn't sure, but it was enough to make his mind a little hazy.
"So Greg's drunk and Nick broke... Mr. Mug?" He watched as Greg started to nod, then pause. Greg was thinking, possibly trying to figure out something he thought was important.
"I'm not drunk." Catherine walked towards the two, ignoring Greg's glare. She too took a sniff of the air, and nodded in confirmation.
"Either you are, or Nick was drinking more than just coffee." He opened his mouth to deny the accusation when Greg's head disappeared. One more, Greg was down on the ground, this time on his hands and knees. What was going to happen flashed through Nick's mind before it occurred? Greg had lowered his head to the spilled coffee and lapped some up with his tongue.
"Folgers." Both Catherine and he made looks of disgust directed towards the blonde man. Greg sprung up and eyed Nick suspiciously. "That doesn't prove anything. Maybe you have a flask."
"A flask?" Nick was shocked. "What am I? Your Grandfather?" However, his answer didn't deter Greg's mood as he started to pat Nick down. Once his hands started to get into lower regions, Nick swatted them away. "I'm not hiding anything there, Frisky." Greg merely pouted.
"I will figure you out." And then he was gone. Just like that, Greg walked out of the break room. He looked at Catherine, who shrugged back.
"Should we get him a cab or something?" Nick nodded as Catherine also left, dialing the local taxi number into her cell phone.
After closing the door, Nick immediately headed to the kitchen, throwing his keys and jacket onto the table. He grabbed a beer before making his way into the living room. Sitting heavily onto the couch, eyes fixed to the television show currently playing, he smiled.
"You are the craziest person I have ever met." The person situated beside him grinned in response.
"Anything to cop a feel." Laughter escaped his lips while he turned to look at Greg. That smell from before began to fill his nostrils, and he found himself leaning in. Soon, their lips connected, soft at first then becoming more passionate, needy.
Nick broke the kiss, panting slightly and muttered, "Anything to cop a feel." Greg reached up, and pulled Nick's head back towards his own, intent on resurrecting the kiss.
